Thus far we’ve taken an admittedly flippant dip into the wellspring of bilge, and while this offering will likely seem no different, no less askew, with no less of an ‘otherness’ about it, it occupies a special place in my heart. I like all the Song Poems I’ve posted so far, but something happened to me when I first heard this one…I loved it.

“There are eight million stories in the naked city…” Pfft, baloney, eight million my eye, what gives – you got smog in the noggin? There are two, just two.

Despite continued attempts by those Godless, whore-mongering, smut pedlars at HBO, to debase the genre with real actors and creators with integrity who refuse to hand over their baby to some committee of bastard hacks to cack-handedly lop off the head of the Golden Goose of a good idea, and smash its egg into a potentially endless series of seasons of 20-odd advertisement peppered pieces, there are but two stories in any Crime drama, and you’re going to shut your yap, sit there and listen while Ralph Lowe spoon-feeds you the skinny, capisce?